An Exchange of Letters
by WeAllHaveAnEscape
Summary: Letters to Marius and his unread responses, set after Éponine's death. Very angsty and a bit depressing...hope you enjoy :) Now continued!
1. Éponine's Letter

**A/N: I felt like writing something a bit more downcast, so here you go. I have no idea how Éponine would be able to write so well, but that is the mystery...(ignoring the fact that there is no mystery for it to be.)**

**This is an urgent appeal. Just one click of a 'review' button could make this young author feel good about herself. So go on. You know you want to. No charge. Go on :P**

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My Dearest Marius,

If you are reading these words, which I presume have been given to you by Cosette, then it means I am dead. Which I am sure you know.

It's strange, writing a death note. But never mind. I accepted my fate when I went back to the barricade. And if dying meant I could save you, I'd do it a thousand times over, and another thousand times after that.

I hope you're happy, as you deserve to be. Cosette is a kind-hearted girl, we had our differences, but I'm sure she'll help you through the hard times. Give her my apologies for the way she was treated at the inn.

This letter isn't purely without purpose. I have something to ask of you. I can picture your expression right now; your eyes have widened, and you're a little worried to keep reading. Am I right? Of course I am.

I need you to keep an eye out for Azelma. No need to take her in or buy her things, I couldn't possibly ask that, but just make sure she's alright, that she's got a bit of food and that she's staying positive. Makes her money through performing on the streets now - got a nice little voice. Me and Gavroche sounded like drowning cats, but she can carry a tune alright, get a few francs out of it.

You might know her already. Small girl, about up to the bottom of my ribcage, skinny, apparently looks like me. Brown hair, wavy, quite long, usually tangled. Brown eyes, too. Scar on her forehead, never healed. If you don't know who I'm talking about, then you'll find her singing by the bridge over the Seine. Spare her a coin, if you can.

I hope life has treated you alright - I assume you and Cosette have married. If you're reading this at about the time I think you're reading this, then I presume you have a child on the way, even if it's early days. I'm pleased for you, honestly.

Would I like to have taken Cosette's place? Of course I would. Who wouldn't? But your heart never belonged to me, however much I would have liked it to. How lovely it must be to hear you coming quietly through the door after a days work, settling yourself next to me on the sofa, perhaps some tea in our hands as we talk and laugh away the evenings together. I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy Cosette. But no matter. As long as you're happy, I'm happy.

I'll miss you, Marius. I'll miss our walks by the river, the conversations in the marketplace, the evenings at the Café, watching Grantaire fall over tables and Joly giving his medical lectures, Enjolras giving speeches with nobody listening, and Jehan writing some romantic poetry. Courfeyrac and Combeferre chatting up the ladies. Do you remember the evening Courfeyrac drank too much and tried to make a pass at you? I'll never forget the look on your face - priceless. No doubt you miss them as much as I, probably more.

Take care, Marius. Enjoy life. As I know, it's far too short to despise. Keep your chin up, and spare me a thought now and then.

Yours, with all my love,

Éponine


	2. An Unread Reply

A/N: I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a bit emotional writing these (I picture what I write, and the image in my head was of Marius crouched over his desk writing, hand shaking, with Éponine's spirit watching over him, perhaps a hand on his shoulder, it's oddly deep for me, but there you go. Picture that, my dear reader, and vive la Meponine!)

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My Dearest Éponine,

I know you will never read this. But I must write it anyway. Cosette gave me your letter, and I couldn't not reply.

Oh, Éponine, I miss you. I miss your laugh, I miss your presence, the way you could cheer me up no matter what the circumstances are. I miss the way you used to curl up into some gravity-defying shape in which you fell asleep next to me, on the nights I got you to stay, the way you double checked everything was in pristine condition before you left.

I am happy. Grieving still, but happy. Cosette makes me happy, and I have some friends at the translator where I work. They could never replace you, or the Amis. But they're good people. I think you would have liked them.

I know Azelma. I never knew you were related though - many people in Saint-Michel looked similar. You're right about her voice. Cosette likes to listen when we pass by. I keep an eye on her - you'd be proud of her, she sings with a girl around your age in a restaurant on a weekend evening now - a friendly place, no drunks or leery men - an makes a little extra out of that.

She's taken care of by the community. It's funny, I never realised just how many people you knew. But judging from the amount that know Azelma, I'm guessing quite a few. The women spare her some food, the men a coin - they look out for her, the washer women who live near the factory. Much like you, they've got her covered if something should happen. She's happy.

You're right in assuming that I married Cosette - your parents turned up at the wedding, funnily enough, asking for money. Your mother's face at being carried out by her arms and legs was something I found quite amusing, if you don't mind me saying. No child as of yet, but perhaps in the future. Unless there's something Cosette hasn't told me, of course.

I love Cosette, and I think I always will, but part of me wishes it was you sometimes. There's something about you that nobody else has, I can't put my finger on it, but there is something. I wouldn't mind coming home to you, feeling your head against my shoulder as we converse about the days events. I don't remember you enjoying tea, so perhaps some hot chocolate instead, I seem to remember you enjoying that. But Cosette is enough.

I miss you, my dear Éponine, and the evenings at the Café - I very much do remember Courfeyrac trying to 'woo' me that evening, something gives the hint that Grantaire played a part in it. I wonder what else you remember? Feuilly crouched over his books about Poland, perhaps? Lesgle watching it all happen from his corner behind the bar? I won't forget the look on Enjolras' face as Grantaire called him an impotent maggot one night - I can picture it now, the perfect blend of disgust, distaste, and amusement. Only Enjolras.

I'll spare you more than a thought. Each day I make the journey to your grave, carrying the white daisies you admired every time you passed the shop. Cosette doesn't come, but I prefer it that way. Part of me thinks you're still with me - every so often, in the shadows, I swear I see your image. It doesn't frighten me. It's comforting, even if it is just a trick of the brain. I can keep you with me, my darling 'Ponine.

It is too late for you to hear this, I know, but I love you, Éponine. I love you so, so much. One day, I will tell it to you, watch your face as you hear the words. But until then, my beautiful, beautiful girl

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	3. Éponine's Diary

**A/N: Heck, I'll continue with it, if it gets bad then please feel free to throw a brick at my window, it'll provide some entertainment. :P Hope you all enjoy, reviews keep the Meponine ship floating! (Unless you don't like them as a ship, in which case reviews keep the author writing :P) This is the only bit of "action writing", the rest will be letters and exchanges.**

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"Marius?"

"Oh, yes?"

"I, uh, found this. Well, I didn't find it, but that girl I like to listen to, the small one by the river, gave it to me and told me to give it to you. She didn't say anything else, just went back to her singing."

Marius took what looked to be a small diary. He recognised that diary.

He'd given it to Éponine about seven months before she died.

"Th-thank you Cosette, if you don't mind then I think I'd rather be alone for a bit."

Cosette nodded and left the room.

Marius placed the dirt-ridden book on his desk. Hints of the deep red the cover had once been could be spotted through the dust and coal, and it looked like it had been dropped in water. Nevertheless, it was certainly Éponine's. Marius stroked the cover tenderly, taking a moment to console himself before gently unbuckling the cover and opening the book, running his finger against the spine carefully as he began to read.

_To whoever is reading this,_

_For a start, if you have hold of this, I am no longer on this earth. Do not bother seeking me out, for you will not succeed._

_If you are not by the name of Marius Pontmercy, then please close this book and return it to the girl who gave it to you. She will have no difficulty seeking out the person it was intended for._

_However, if you are Monsieur Marius, then please spare the time to read a little, even the first page. Please._

_Éponine Thénardier._

Marius of course turned the page, and began to read the writing there. It had clearly been done with some sort of charcoal, the lines fairly thick but not impossible to read. Her writing wasn't especially good, but readable, and so very Éponine - sometimes careful, sometimes hastily scribbled, sometimes slanting so much you could hardly see it at all.

_12th November 1931_

_My Dearest Marius,_

_Before I begin, I want to thank you for giving me this book. It's a funny thing to say, but it's almost as if I had a second friend. Thank you for that._

_If you do not want to read my ramblings, which could include some, shall we say, emotional topics concerning my feelings, then please feel free to stop reading. I won't mind, providing you return it to Azelma, and Azelma only._

_I suppose you're wondering how I can write when I have never been schooled. The answer to that is that I taught myself, using your written papers and books. That's why I spent so much time pouring over them. I'm glad I did._

_If you happen to be reading this, then it means that for some reason I am dead. Of course I cannot predict the future, but from all this revolutionary talk, I will assume I have died at the barricade._

_As written in my letter, feel no guilt. If that was the cause, then it would have been my decision to return. It also means that I died near the one person who mattered: you. For that, I will be grateful._

_If I died in some other circumstances, then know that there would have been nothing you could have done. I know what you're like, always blaming yourself for anything going wrong. I doubt you'll ever change. But that's okay. You wouldn't be you otherwise._

_I suppose you could think of this as a diary of sorts - my thoughts about the day, any events, and of course you're going to pop up quite a bit. I won't be offended if you get bored and decide to stop reading. I doubt the thoughts of a street rat will be the most entertaining thing you'll ever read._

_I hope you are happy. I'm assuming I told you my feelings at some point before my death, if not, then I suppose you might be a little surprised._

_I love you, my dear Marius, and I want nothing more than for you to be content. All I ask is that you give this a read every now and again._

_All my love,_

_Éponine_


	4. A Letter to Nowhere

**A/N: And here is Marius' response. Each time I update there will be two chapters, Éponine's entry and Marius' reply - enjoy!**

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My Dearest Éponine,

I'm not quite sure why I am writing a response to your entry, only that it provides a source of comfort if you will, and it is something I feel should be done.

It is indeed me, Marius, who was given this. Your sister reminds me very much of you; she knows her way around alright, considering she's probably just got a very vague description of me and associating me so often with Cosette. Clever girl.

I wasn't aware that was what you were doing when you studied my papers - I wasn't sure quite what you were doing, to be honest, but I didn't expect you to teach yourself to write through them. I too am glad you did though, if it means that this diary is the result. I'm also glad I picked it up that day, otherwise this may never have happened.

I'm glad that I have this diary. It's almost as if having a piece of you with me, however sappy that may sound. If it did sound a bit sappy, forgive me. I know that was never your thing.

I am happy enough. Cosette keeps me happy, and my work keeps me busy. Of course I miss you, I miss all of the Amis, but I can cope.

You were right in concluding that your fate was at the barricade. I held you as you died, as you confessed you were in love with me - how I wish you had told me earlier. I kissed you, gently, on the forehead as you asked. I still wonder if you did sense it. Knowing you, you would have done - you sense everything.

I have a small portrait if you, which I have placed just inside the cover of this book. I don't suppose you remember one evening at the Musain, a man we did not know crouched over a notebook just a few weeks before the barricade? Well, I asked him to draw me a picture of you, should anything have happened. So I have something.

You were always so happy then - there was nobody to frighten or intimidate you (don't pretend your fathers gang didn't scare you - nobody could run into them and just continue merrily on their way) and you were always laughing.

I liked to hear you laugh. You had a funny laugh, a kind of cackle that simply lit up the room. That's one of the things I miss the most. Cosette has a nice laugh, but it isn't the same. Hers is more soft, girlish, whereas yours was, well, the opposite. It was a genuinely happy laugh, was yours.

I won't pretend to feel no guilt at your death, because I still feel it were my fault. If I hadn't sent you off with that damn letter, you'd still be here. I doubt I'll ever get over that. But I know you would want me to move on, so I try not to dwell on it too much.

Of course I'll keep reading - I'm surprised you thought I wouldn't. And don't call yourself a street rat, because you're more than that. You're Éponine. Not a street rat, not a lowly girl, but Éponine.

I won't lie and say that your revelation did not surprise me, for it did. But not unpleasantly. I love Cosette, she makes me happy and is a lovely person, but there's always a part of me that will continue to love you, my dear Éponine.

I feel I shall make writing replies to these entries a regular occurrence. I feel happier now, as if something has been lifted. All credit goes to you of course, as you would have wanted. I can imagine you poking me in the ribs, saying how if it weren't for you I wouldn't be writing this, that cheeky grin embedded on your face. I'd poke you back, and soon it would turn into a full on war, usually ending with you in a fit of hysterical laughter.

It saddens me that we shall ever experience that again. But I can be content with imagining. Until the next page, my lovely girl.

All my deepest affections,

Marius.


	5. 15th November 1831

**A/N: I got the theatre scene idea from another fiction on here - except I can't remember which one (definitely a Marius/Éponine though). If anybody knows then please tell me, that way I can credit the original author for the inspiration :) Thanks!**

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15th November 1831

My Dearest Marius,

You took me to see a theatre show today.

You saw me on the street, cold and a little hungry. I assume you saw the man push me to the ground before continuing on his way. You helped me up, helped me dust myself down somewhat, and asked me to go with you.

I refused at first - you know I always will. But luckily for me you're a persistent person, and soon I was happily walking along next to you, hands brushing. It was all I could do not to grab yours and entwine our fingers as we continued. But no matter.

The show was a recently translated Shakespeare play - I'm fairly sure it was The Taming of the Shrew. Funny name for a play. I don't remember much of it though, because I was tired, and fell asleep.

Possibly not the evening you pictured.

I do hope I didn't snore - do I actually snore or is Gavroche winding me up? I'm not too sure myself, bearing in mind he's not been home for about four years. Well, not to my knowledge anyway.

I don't remember much of what happened in those moments before I fell asleep, only that I'm sure your lips pressed against my head as I drifted off. That alone meant I can guarantee it was a pleasant sleep.

We were still at the theatre when I woke up. My head was still on your shoulder, and your arm was...around my waist. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shocked. Pleasantly shocked, but shocked all the same.

The arm didn't move as we walked back to the tenement. My head found your shoulder again, I wanted to make the most of the time. You dropped me off at my family's rooms and kissed me gently on the forehead, smiling and disappearing into your own apartment.

Whew.

That was a night to remember.

My father wasn't home, luckily, just my mother and Azelma. Maman asked me abut my day, which I told her about - not the theatre part, she might have accidentally let that slip if I did - and me and Azelma both got a hot roll each (she takes pity when Papa is not around) which was gone in seconds. I deposited the days earnings on the table and went straight to my bed.

It's not the most comfortable, a lumpy mattress with a bit of straw to stop the springs poking through, but it's enough for me. I slipped off into sleep for the night, and I'm not ashamed for you to know I dreamed of you.

All my love,

Éponine


	6. A Second Letter to Nowhere

My Dearest Éponine,

Of course I remember our theatre trip - you're right, it was The Taming of the Shrew. If you'd managed to stay awake, I think you'd have enjoyed it. But I could see you were tired, and you are adorable when you sleep (I can say that without the risk of being slapped this time too!) so I left you.

I did kiss your head as you drifted off. A couple of times when you were sleeping too. You need to stop thinking people are repulsed by you, because they aren't. So you're not spotlessly keen and your teeth are a little crooked. So? I'd be happy to be seen with you any day, whether you believe it or not.

You do snore when you sleep sometimes, but you didn't that night, you'll be pleased to know. If you want a complete description of yourself, then here you go.

You curled up in your seat, knees almost up to your chin, and shuffled slightly closer to me. I lifted the armrest between our chairs so that you had a little more space. You settled your head against my shoulder, and my arm, as you know, found your waist. It was nice, feeling your body so peacefully next to mine. Not to mention rather sweet.

I did indeed walk you back, but you forgot to detail that we went the long way, by the river. I do hope you hadn't forgotten! You insisted on going there, so of course I agreed and went with you.

The water in the night air seemed to ignite something - you challenged me to a race, which I gladly accepted (failing to realise just how fast you can actually be when you want to). Then we went and sat on a bench nearby. You started shivering, so I put my jacket over you. You looked a little surprised, but accepted it. My arm found your waist again, your head sought out my shoulder, and if it weren't for me telling you we needed to get back, I think we both would have fallen asleep there.

I am glad to hear your mother took pity on you, that she loved you. Even you, will all your inner strength, couldn't have gone without any source of home happiness. She sounded like she was just as intimidated as you by your father, although like you I'm guessing she tried not to show it. Hopefully she has made a new life somewhere else.

After our little exchange back at the tenement, I went straight to sleep too - I may or may not have had my thoughts filled with a sleeping and cheekily grinning you.

Until tomorrow, my lovely Éponine,

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	7. 25th November 1831

**A/N: I had time on my hands (and by that I man it's about half past midnight and I have no intentions of sleeping until I've written some more, so thought I'd do a double update for this, hope you enjoy :)**

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25th November 1831

My Dearest Marius,

Things have been quiet around here recently. You've been away on business in Calais, and Grantaire was ill and under house arrest by Joly, so nothing that exciting had happened at the Musain.

However you got back today, thank heaven. I think I made a bit of a fool of myself upon seeing you - I literally jumped at you, my legs wrapping around your waist as I buried my face in your shoulder, whilst to almost fell over at the force. Sorry about that.

I missed you though, a lot. I had nobody to talk to, nobody to spend the day with. It was fairly lonely. But you're back now, and no doubt we have a lot to catch up on.

I know you will have worried about me in your absence - or rather, you "regretted not keeping an eye on me" as you would have put it. Nothing bad happened - a few strikes with the belt from a failed robbery, a couple of slaps, but I've come to expect that. After a while, it stops being something to be pained by, and becomes something to be tolerated. So don't worry, for I'm fine.

When we were back in the tenement, you invited me back to your flat, to which I agreed. You had some wonderful stories to tell - my favourite was about the travelling circus. I'd never even heard of a circus before, but you explained it all, and now I really envy you. I'd love to have seen an elephant - I've only ever seen pictures before. I asked you what it was like, to which you replied "big and elephantish". Because that cleared it up for me.

In all seriousness though, it sounded like you had a good time, despite the work. In truth, I was worried you'd found somebody else, another girl with which you would fall in love with. I think that was one reason I was so enthusiastic on your return. I was glad you hadn't met anybody.

That sounds horribly selfish, doesn't it? Oh well. We can't help what we feel, I suppose.

You also told me about the big harbour, all the ships and sailing boats, which I found fascinating - I kept track of them to tell to Gavroche, who loved them just as much. I wouldn't be surprised if he came to you asking to know more.

I wonder what it's like, to be able to just take out your boat and set sail in a lake, a river, a sea. To feel the breeze going against you, the quiet splash of the oars in water. I might have to find out if there are any boat rides near Paris - I think the Seine would be too rough for a safe journey, however exciting it would be.

I'm glad you had a good time, you deserved it - from the evenings I saw you crouched over a paper, furiously translating, I can only hope it helped you relax a bit. You were tense before you went - if only I knew how to give massages, that could have helped.

All my love,

Éponine


	8. A Letter Unread

My Dearest Éponine,

I didn't expect my leaving to affect you so much - if I had known, I would have stayed, or taken you with me. I wish I had now - we could have seen the circus together. I would have liked that.

There was nothing written, but I presume you liked the popcorn I brought back - I remember your expression as you wolfed it down. I'm guessing you liked it, you always did have a sweet tooth. I would have brought back more, but I didn't want to spend any more in case I ran out of money.

I'm sorry for my vague "description" of an elephant - I forgot you'd never seen one. I know you cannot read this, but here is one anyway.

The one I went to see was named Rajah - he was around twelve or thirteen feet tall (about the size of you if you were standing on my head). His eyes were dark, and his trunk fairly wrinkly. He was friendly though, the keeper let me give him a peanut and a pat. His ears were absolutely massive, easily the size of Gavroche.

Oh, my dear Éponine, don't feel selfish. I had no interest in finding myself a lady friend, nor did I have the time to - I doubt I would have found somebody anyway. But I am glad I didn't, not just because I now have Cosette, but because it would have destroyed you. I wouldn't have allowed that to happen.

Although I suppose, in a way, I did let it happen - with Cosette. To this day I still feel horribly guilty at how that must have made you feel, all of my silly nattering and the constant letter sending. Whilst I cannot pretend I feel guilty at loving her, I do feel guilty that we put you through that - believe me, if I had known your true feelings, I would never have asked you.

But I didn't know them, because I'm an unobservant fool, as Grantaire once so kindly pointed out.

I am glad to hear you liked the stories of the ships and boats in the harbour - it was quite a sight to see, especially when you saw it in the distance. That's another thing I wish I had shown you, the sun setting over the harbour in the evening. It was a beautiful sight to see.

Gavroche did come to me the next day, asking for more tales. I gladly told him some - he was such a sweet young boy, always energetic. Intelligent too - perhaps not in the sense of education, but in the way he thought and viewed things, he was wise beyond his years. It was the same with you - when we were younger, you fourteen, me fifteen, you could think of philosophical questions even Enjolras couldn't answer. I suppose the harsh reality of your world forced you to grow up so quickly. If I could have changed that, then I would.

I can't help but worry about you, especially now I know what happened whilst I was away. Being struck with a belt and slapped because your father is too much of a bastard to treat you properly is not okay. It never will be. You being abused was never 'okay'. You shouldn't have to grow used to it, or tolerate it. It's disgusting. If only I could have stopped him, saved you, prevented such a thing having to happen near every time you went home.

I still think of you every day, and read the next entry - until the next, my _belle_ girl,

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	9. 29th November 1831

**A/N: I seem to be updating this much faster than I thought...not that I'm complaining, haha, just don't expect it to continue being daily for too much longer (well, you can if you want, I have no idea if it'll stay regular. And I'm rambling now. On with the chapters!)**

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29th November 1831

My Dearest Marius,

Oh gosh, tonight was one of the best and yet worst nights I've ever experienced. Even now, about five hours later, I find myself either smiling or frowning.

We met up in the evenings, just after I'd deposited my earnings to my father. He wasn't happy, and I got a bit of a beating. He pushed me to the ground and started kicking me, on my legs, arms, back, stomach, anywhere he could reach. Luckily for me, that didn't last long, as you turned up.

There was quite a transformation from the Marius I knew - you looked like you were about to burst into flames. Dropping your books you dragged my father away from me and pushed him up against the wall, threatening him in hope that he would stop. He left as soon as you let him - thank heavens he didn't have his gang with him. I was worried enough about you as it was.

You helped me to my feet, but I couldn't stand for long - we later found out I had severe bruising on my calf, which was causing the pain. Instead of leaving me there, or trying to get me to walk, you simply picked me up bridal-style and carried me to the Musain.

I tried to hide my tears, but you saw them anyway. Not far from the Musain, you sat me down on a bench and kneeled in front of me, parting my hair gently out of my face. " 'Ponine?" you asked, full of concern. I couldn't speak properly, the embarrassment of you having to see first the beating and then my crying was too great. So you didn't ask anything else, but pulled me into a fierce hug.

I was shocked at first - who wouldn't be? But I soon relaxed and held you tightly, letting out the last of my emotions into the side of your neck. You didn't mind, simply holding me close and gently rocking me back and forth, in an attempt to comfort me. It worked, of course.

When the last of my tears were finished, you helped me up again, but the pain was too much. Instead, you picked me up once more, bridal-style like before, and I wrapped my arms around your neck. I'm surprised there weren't any wolf-whistles when we walked in.

The boys could see I was injured though, and you took me straight to Joly. I was nervous when he asked to see my legs - just my calves thank goodness, though I was wary all the same. But you diverted my mind, squeezing my hand tightly and keeping your other hand soothingly tracing circles on my shoulder blade as he wrapped the most damaged parts.

He put some strange ointment on a cut I'd gained and bandaged that too - why I do not know, I've sustained far worse in the past with no medical attention. Not that I was complaining, with you being so protective - it was nice, having you so close that evening. I made the most of it.

Almost the identical second I was bandaged up, Grantaire made an appearance, drunk as ever. I sat next to you on the bench, both of us watching with a smile as he started calling Courfeyrac an unintelligible, uneducated mosquito, and Joly an unwanted molecule, before tripping over a chair, smashing three beer bottles and still reaching for another.

At some point in the evening, my stomach started churning, probably from the earlier assault. I felt like I was going to be sick, and mentioned this to you. You scooped me up again and carried me swiftly to the toilets, holding my hair back as I vomited. Your arm wrapped around my stomach, rubbing it gently as it emptied itself of whatever pitiful amount was there in the first place. It was one of the most intimate things you've ever done, not that I was protesting.

After I'd finished throwing up my digestive system, you informed the Amis of our departure, and carried me back to the tenement, insisting I stayed at yours, which I did. Your bed was so comfortable, and I only wish you'd slept there with me, instead of on the sofa.

I'm writing this entry at yours at the moment - it's about half past eleven, so I should sleep soon. Thank you for everything this evening - saving me from the beating, taking me to Joly to get treated, letting me stay here - I won't forget this in a hurry.

All my love,

Éponine


	10. An Evening of Concern

My Dearest Éponine,

Oh dear God above, I remember this evening. It was one of the worst I've ever experienced.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing when I found you. I didn't know who it was at first, just that I could see a shadow kicking something. Then I heard you whimper, and knew exactly who you both were.

Usually I'd have been afraid to hurt somebody, but not that night. Nobody who treats my beautiful 'Ponine like that is going to get away with monsieur pacifist. I didn't care what happened to your father, I just wanted him to stop.

And thank the Lord he did, for I was seconds away from punching the bastard square in the face. I don't know why you were worrying about me - you were the one being abused! It terrified me to see you so scared, so weak. It was something I was completely unused to, the mere sight of you in such a state was enough to break my heart.

In a sick, twisted sense I'm almost glad that you couldn't walk - not because I wanted you to be in pain, but because it gave me an excuse to keep you close, stay with you all evening. Carrying you through the streets was a very bittersweet experience - I was terrified for you, hoping with all the hope in the world that you were okay, and yet not minding the close proximity between us.

If I was worried before, I was distraught to see you weep. I just didn't know what to do, you were always so tough, so guarded, never letting yourself cry in front of me. I wasn't sure what else to do except hug you, which I'm glad I did. It comforted me as much as you, something about having you there, knowing you we're safe, knowing you were going to be alright was such a relief. I don't know what I would have done if you had been hurt any more.

I'm glad there was no teasing when we got to the Musain - if someone had started jeering and wolf-whistling, I wouldn't care who they were, they would have been kicked in a very painful place. I'm not sure why, as I'm not a naturally violent person, but something about you in that state combined with the anger I felt at your father sparked something. I felt like I'd actually done something to make a difference, to you anyway.

The relief I felt upon seeing Joly was almost as great as the relief when I realised you were safe. I can guess why him touching your legs was such a concerning moment for you, although I didn't know at the time. I presume it was a problem directly linked to your fathers gang and their disgusting, wandering hands. If I had a gun, I swear I would have killed each one of them, regardless of the aftermath. I just felt so protective of you, I would have done anything, and still would, no matter the circumstances or results.

Although you didn't write it, you got your wish, I seem to remember - I awoke to hear you crying, clearly after a bad nightmare. I rushed through to see you shaking, muffled sobs escaping into the pillow. Of course I wasn't going to leave you, so I slipped in next to you, pulling you close once more as you wept into my chest.

I didn't leave you. You fell asleep in my arms that night, no more bad dreams coming. It wasn't long until I slipped off myself, comforted by the peaceful breathing of you next to me.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	11. 3rd December 1831

**A/N: A long one and a short reply XD Sorry for the difference in length, I'll try to keep them round about the same in future!**

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3rd December 1831

My Dearest Marius,

Isn't it cold now? I swear the weather gets colder as soon as I step outside, as if to spite me. Is this happening to you, or just me?

Of course there is one positive to the cold: snow.

And ice.

We went skating today - I wasn't really in the mood to do anything at first, sitting in in alley shivering and trying not to draw attention to myself. You spotted me though, arms nearly blue, and insisted I went with you.

I wasn't exactly the best company at first - insisting you didn't have to pay, keeping quiet - it wasn't because of you, I just felt so out of place. But then we collected our skates, and you took my hand, and I began to enjoy myself a bit more.

I won't pretend I was a bit hesitant at the sight of those skates - the shoes I was wearing were two sizes too big, and those blades look complicated enough to attach. In the end you had to help me first untangle the metal contraptions and then put them on. Like with Joly a few days ago, I still had that sense of unease when you took hold of my lower leg, but I'd trust you with my life, so the feeling didn't last long.

We must have looked absolutely ridiculous to anybody else, shrieking and slipping all over the place. I lost count of the amount of times we fell over. You were always grasping my and, or my arm, or my waist, giving me a sense of security even though you were just as inexperienced as me.

I think our most spectacular (and possibly most awkward) fall was about forty minutes into the skating - one of your blades got stuck on the ice, your arm was around my waist, and it ended up with you falling, dragging me with you, so that I was pinned underneath you as you caught yourself before you crushed me.

I..

Oh God, I'm so embarrassed.

I...

I screamed.

Not because I was hurt, but because I was scared.

I...I just don't know what came over me. You know what my fathers gang could be like - not that I'm comparing you to them, I wouldn't dream of it, but the position I was in beneath you...I've been there before.

You looked shocked. I don't blame you. I can't describe how ashamed I felt, my face hidden in my hands.

After about a minute I peeked through my fingers. You were sat next to me. You reached out a hand to touch my cheek, but making no contact, as if asking for permission. I nodded. You brushed away a tear that had escaped, gently, lightly. You helped me up, off the ice. We returned our skates in silence.

I was distraught. I thought every ounce of friendship we had was gone. But thank the good Lord above you didn't think so.

You sat me on some stairs outside a small restaurant, taking both of my hands. Briefly letting go of one, you brushed my hair back behind my ear. I couldn't meet your eye. But you were patient, sitting silently until I was ready to talk.

I took a breath. Now or never.

"I-I'm sorry."

You nodded, a serious yet concerned expression fixed on your features. You have my hands a squeeze, as if telling me it was okay.

"A few months ago, a man called M-Montparnasse, he, um, he forced himself on me and I couldn't do anything to stop him and nobody else even tried to and it wasn't the first time he'd done it and that was the position he had me in so that I couldn't move so when you tripped today I remembered it and got really scared because even though I know you wouldn't do anything I kept having flashbacks and I'm so, so sorry because I know you probably hate me right now and you have every right to, but I am so sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen and I trust you with my life but that was the reason why I screamed and I really need to breathe now."

After that exceptionally long sentence/paragraph, I was surprised to see that I was not the only one crying. Tears were gathering in your eyes. You said nothing, but kept opening and closing your mouth, almost as if trying to find the words.

I presume you couldn't think of any, because you just pulled me towards you in the tightest hug I've ever been in. I could feel your heartbeat against mine, so close were our bodies. I hugged you back as tightly as I could manage. I didn't want to let go.

I'm staying with you tonight actually. You're next to me in the bed, both of us on our sides and your arm draped over my stomach as I write this sentence. You keep trying to read this over my shoulder, but I won't let you. As soon as I stop writing I'll likely thank you for today.

In the unlikely event that I don't, then thank you, for understanding, for forgiving me. It means more than I can put in to words,

All my love to infinity,

Éponine


	12. A Heartbreaking Confession

My Dearest Éponine,

Well. This was most certainly a day to remember.

I don't blame you for anything. Quite the opposite, I blame myself completely.

I should have been more careful, more aware.

I don't even what to think about what happened for you to react that way. It's too shocking to comprehend. I swear to God if I ever see this Montparnasse I will kill him with my own bare hands, no matter what happens to me.

People like that don't deserve to share a planet with you. They shouldn't be allowed out. The man's a psychopath. I- I just don't know what to say.

I'm not surprised I was crying. This letter and your entry have gained a few tear stains in the last ten minutes. I wish you'd told me the day it happened. I'd probably never have let you out on your own again, but you would have been safe.

I'm sorry for the shortness of this letter. I just don't quite know what to say, even now I'm in shock. You'd tell me I'm overreacting, but I'm not. Nobody should have to have that happen to them. Nobody. It makes me feel physically sick.

I can't even begin to describe the nightmares you had that night. You fell asleep fairly swiftly, back pressed into my chest, my arm over your stomach and my hand playing with your hair.

You slept for about an hour, before I presume you started shaking. That's the first sign of a nightmare with you.

I was asleep at that point, unaware what was happening. It's was only when you screamed that it was brought to my attention. I awoke you immediately, shaking you until your eyes fluttered open, and I can only hope I didn't hurt you with the force I used to pull you towards me.

You were sobbing openly into my chest, but I didn't mind. My hands were stroking your back gently, doing absolutely anything I could to help you calm down. Eventually you fell into slumber, but I didn't, knowing that wouldn't be the last of them.

Oh, my beautiful Éponine. If only you were still here, so that I could touch you again, hug you again. I could kiss you, confess my feelings, watch your face light up as you realised.

As you well know, I love Cosette dearly, but if it is possible to love someone and be in love with somebody else then this is what is happening. Perhaps I should move on, in fact, I know I should, but I can't. I don't want to. I never want to let you go.

All my deepest love and affections,

Marius


	13. 8th December 1831

**A/N: Hello there lovely people :) I don't really have a lot to say here so on with the fic! :P Bit happier this time, as the last one was a bit*cough*very depressing. Enjoy!**

**Dedicated to curly1221, it's the least I can do for getting you stuck with a depressing image all day! Here's something to picture instead: Marius and Éponine are out on the middle of the lake in the morning. It's slightly misty, and Éponine is leaning back against his chest, both of them laughing as they realise they've been stuck for twenty minutes. Hope that's a slightly happier one! :)**

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8th December 1831

My Dearest Marius,

Today was amazing.

A few entries back I described your trip to Calais and about the boats there. So what do you do? You find a lake on the other side of Paris and book us a trip.

You shouldn't have, I can't imagine you have a lot spare. But I'm so glad you did.

You called for me pretty early this morning, about six. I didn't mind, although I had to be careful not to wake Azelma or Maman. God only knows where my father was. I was had expecting him to be lying in wait for us. Luckily he wasn't.

The first sign that you'd arranged something was the fact that there was a small pony and cart waiting outside, which you helped me in to. I would normally have refused to get in, but I couldn't help feeling curious. Plus, I'd be pressed up quite tightly against you, which I won't pretend I didn't think was a bonus.

I'm still not sure quite where we went - it was kind of forest-y, and the lake was huge. The journey lasted about an hour, and was a pleasant one. We talked about everything under the sun; the weather, the revolution, the Amis, Azelma, placing bets on how drunk Grantaire would be that evening, the usual.

We stopped of for a bite to eat about halfway through (probably due to the fact neither of us had eaten and my stomach hadn't stopped rumbling for the past ten minutes). We had some toasted bread and shared a cheese platter, discovering a mutual disliking for Edam - I never knew you didn't like it. I didn't know I didn't like it until I took a bite and nearly threw it up. Guess you learn a new thing every day.

You bought some bottled water to take for the journey, stopping the pony when I needed some to avoid any stomach pains. I even had a turn at guiding the horse, you wrapping an arm around me and placing a hand on top of mine. The journey was almost as excitable as the event at the end of it.

When we finally got there, I can't imagine how funny I must have looked. My jaw literally hung open, my eyes widening as I realised what you'd organised. You placed a hand on my waist to ensure I hadn't zoned out completely and guided me towards the shed where we could register.

Before too long we'd figured out how to row it reasonably well - me taking the left oar, you the right, trying to get some sort of motion going. Ignoring the twenty minutes where we got tangled up in some sort of creeper, I'd say it went well.

It was just as relaxing as I'd hoped - you told me to sit back as you took both oars, which I did (I may or may not have been leaning against you instead of a seat, not entirely just because there was no room to sit elsewhere. You didn't seem to mind.

I don't know how long we spent out on the lake, since numbers aren't exactly one of my strong points, but it was quarter to four when we finally got out.

We got back to the outskirts of Paris to return the cart, in a much happier area - no dirt on the streets, nobody hanging in the shadows, all peaceful streets and candlelit restaurants, one of which we ate in. The food was gorgeous, although my table manners leave something to be desired.

All my love,

Éponine


	14. A Day at the Lake

My Dearest Éponine,

I'd almost forgotten about that day.

I have to say, you're almost as sweet when you've just woken up as when you're sleeping - your hair sticks out in all directions and you can't stop yawning. It's pretty cute.

I was a bit worried at first, you seemed hesitant to go - I forgot Azelma and your mother would still be sleeping. Azelma's a lovely girl, but I think if she'd woken up we would have had to brought her, and as much as I like her, I'm glad it was just us two.

The journey was indeed a pleasant one - I reckon you'll be happy to know you won the Grantaire bet. Five sous richer that night, I see! I'm glad you enjoyed breakfast too, a friend recommended the café a long time ago. I agree about the Edam - everyone else I knew loved it, it's nice to know I wasn't alone! I don't know what it is about it, I just find it almost bitter in a sense. Strange since that's not the flavour, but I suppose we just have odd taste buds.

Your expression was quite comedic, I must admit - your jaw didn't close properly until we were almost out on the water. I'd never been rowing before, so you weren't the only one who had absolutely no idea what they were doing. I think it was some sort of vine from the willow tree we got stuck in - you did forget to write how you almost fell out of the boat three times trying to untangle us, I was lucky to catch you. You nearly pulled me down once, for such a thin girl you were surprisingly strong.

If we got there at around eight and stayed until quarter to four then we were there for almost eight hours! Time honestly does fly when you're having fun. I noticed you had a few water droplets in your hair from the splashing, and couldn't resist brushing them away. You just smiled cheekily at me and got into the cart.

I actually can't remember whereabouts in Paris we ended up - it wasn't anywhere near Saint Michel, it was right on the outskirts, but I agree, it was a lovely town. I wouldn't have minded living there. But I'm still here in central Paris, it keeps me closer to you. Although admittedly when I married Cosette we moved, to the Rue de Réconfort. Not as high class as the Rue Plumet, but I quite like it. It's closer to your grave, too, which is oddly comforting (ironic, as I believe 'Réconfort' translates into Comfort in the English language).

I wish we'd gone again, they really did do lovey dinners. I notice you seemed to be slightly partial to chicken when it was available, that certainly wasn't the last time you ordered it. I'm not a fan myself, preferring pork. But enough of my culinary habits.

I presume you wrote this on the journey back, or perhaps when I went to use the bathroom, since you haven't written about the evening. So I'll do so instead.

We headed for the Musain after returning the cart. You won the bet of Grantaire's drunkenness (your prediction was singing and falling over the bar twice. You were right on both, I still can't listen to Auld Lang Syne in quite the same way as I used to). Musichetta and Jehan teased us a bit about our "date", but that was to be expected (and you threatening to stand on his neck for a bit soon kept him quiet).

I miss days like this, I don't really do much with Cosette, although I suppose I should. I don't think it'd feel right somehow, but perhaps that's me being selfish.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	15. 14th December 1831

**A/N: If anybody has any ideas about what they could have spend their day doing (would prefer it if they weren't used in Imagine but it's fine if they are) then please let me know :)**

**Sorry if this is a bit crap but I'm really feeling ill tonight, hope it's okay :) And did anybody else get a connection timeout on this website today? I couldn't get on the site for some reason, which was weird...just me, or was it happening to everyone?**

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14th December 1831

My Dearest Marius,

Oh God. Azelma today.

I think a chimpanzee would have been better behaved than her.

She's been ill recently, but luckily she's recovered - handy as today is her birthday, so you decided to treat us both to a day out, even though I tried to persuade you otherwise.

There was a travelling theatre group on the outskirts, in the place we ended up the other day, so you bought us all tickets and took us there.

We went by horse and cart again, which was lovely - if only Azelma had behaved herself and sat still, it would have been better. I was practically sitting you for her to have enough room (alright, fine, no I didn't think that was a bad thing). She almost fell out of the cart three times, refusing to keep still.

I think that poor horse must have been sick to death of her constantly trying to stroke its back - I wish I could have tied her to her seat. You just laughed, but I was not amused.

After the near-hellish journey we finally arrived, giving that poor pony a break. You placed an arm around my waist and bought us all a bag of penny chews to share (which mostly went to Azelma) and led us towards what appeared to be a large dome.

I glanced up at you out of the corner of my eye as I saw the price for us three, but you simply raised an eyebrow in response and gently squeezed my waist gently, your silent way of saying you didn't mind. So I smiled back up at you, and we followed a very excited Azelma through.

Your arm didn't leave my waist for pretty much the entire day - one woman even mistook us for a married couple, with Azelma as our child! That was fairly embarrassing, but I noticed you didn't correct her, causing me to blush even more.

I can't remember the name of the play, only that it was directed at teenagers - probably why you chose it, so that Azelma wouldn't get bored. She certainly didn't, sitting straight upright through the whole thing, eyes glued.

Halfway through, out of the blue, your arm went around my waist again. I found myself instinctively shuffling closer to you - gosh, I hope you didn't mind. We really must have looked like a couple, especially when you leaned down and kissed my cheek gently. I just smiled and leaned my head against your shoulder. It's probably a blessing Azelma didn't see us, I'd never have heard the end of it.

At the end of the play, Azelma just Would. Not. Stop. Talking. It was nice to see, I'm not used to her so animated, I just wish she hadn't kept clinging at my skirt, it began to get irritating. But I was so glad she was happy, and I have only you to thank for that.

We went back to the restaurant we were at the other day, me selecting the chicken once more. Azelma didn't know what to pick, choosing a pie and a baked potato in the end.

All in all, she had an absolutely wonderful time, and so did I. I can't thank you enough, it will definitely be a birthday for her to remember.

All my love,

Éponine


	16. Azelma's Birthday

My Dearest Éponine,

This entry definitely made me smile

I'm so glad both you and Azelma had a good time. I was a little worried she wouldn't enjoy the play, but thank goodness she did.

The journey was one I personally found entertaining - your face was pretty comical, spending half of the journey scowling at her each time she almost fell. I think you might be right about the pony though, I remember when the horse hit Azelma with her tail - then it was your turn to almost fall out, you were laughing so hard.

It was great to see both of you so animated - I've always seen Azelma as quite a shy child, quite fearful, so it was a lovely transformation.

I wish I'd bought more sweets, so you could have had a few more, I know what a sweet tooth you have. But if you're happy, I'm happy.

I knew you wouldn't want me paying. You never do. You seem to forget how desperate my grandfather is for me to accept his money, this was one of the very rare occasions when I did. It was completely worth it though, getting to spend time with you and giving Azelma a fun day at the same time.

I do indeed remember the lady inquiring about our relationship - in truth, I didn't really want to correct her, although I'm not sure why. But I just didn't want to, if the world wanted to think that then let them. In truth, now, I wish it was true.

Of course I didn't mind - why would I have minded you coming closer to me? On the contrary, it was nice, whenever you're next to me I can fully relax, as I know that you're safe, relaxed. I know you're happy, and that's what matters.

I was a bit worried we'd got the wrong restaurant at first, but luckily we didn't - I told you you were partial to chicken! I hope she'd eaten enough, she's even thinner than you were. Not any more though, luckily, thanks to her little restaurant job.

I'm glad you both had a good time. I promise I'll do something for Azelma this year too. I know it's what you would have wanted, my beautiful girl.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	17. 20th December 1831

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of update these past two days, I was busy (although I did put a one shot up yesterday, "Until Next Year", so please have a look and forgive my shameless self-promotion which I always end up doing)**

**Oh, and also, I have a tumblr now! Socially-Awkward-Sprout is me, please follow (from now on I'll put new fanfics there as well as here ;) )**

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20th December 1831

My Dearest Marius,

Oh gosh, I feel horrible.

You found me today leaning against a wall trying to keep my stomach from throwing itself up. You crouched down next to me gently, seeing something was wrong. "Hey, Éponine?" you asked, full of concern. I croaked something out in response, I can't remember what.

You looked at me, clearly worried as you pressed the back of your hand to my forehead. "You're burning up" you told me. I shook my head. "I'm fine, honestly" I said, but of course you didn't believe me.

Before I could protest you scooped me up bridal-style again like you did a couple of weeks ago, carrying me straight to the Musain. I tried to protest but just couldn't find the energy, and leaned against you as you took me to Joly.

He gave you a tiny bottle containing about four pills, telling you to make sure I had two when I got home, one tomorrow morning and one in the evening if I still felt ill. I didn't want to take them - they looked suspiciously clean to me, I wasn't used to such sterile items, everything I touched seemed to acquire about five layers of dirt.

But you didn't even give me a chance to protest before we were off again, you picking me up and carrying me back to your flat. I wasn't sure what to do, so just kind of went with it, letting you tuck me up (in your bed, no less) and swallowing the tablets obediently.

You sat down next to me, propping me up with some cushions from the sofa and gently stroked my hair. Despite the illness, I'd never felt so content. It was oddly domestic, although of course I'd never admit it to you.

I seemed I was staying the night, despite trying to tell you it was too much of a burden. You gave me one of your shirts to sleep in, which I found almost impossible to get on. So I had to ask for help.

Oh Lord, how that must sound. You didn't see anything, nor did I want you to. You just helped me turn onto my back where you loosened my corset and helped me to sit up properly, before exiting the room to give me some privacy.

It took almost ten minutes to put your shirt on - it fell to my knees, so I took my skirt off too (again not so you would have seen anything, I kept my underskirt on) and called to say it was alright to come in.

You took my other clothes and folded them neatly, placing them on the chair at your desk. You kissed my forehead and left, coming back about ten minutes later with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray.

As you know, usually I wouldn't let anybody coddle me. I hate being fussed over. It's in my nature to be independent, it's what I know. But there was something just so...comforting about having you there, so I made an exception.

My hand was shaking every time I tried to pick the spoon up, so you settled yourself next to me and used a combination of pillows and you arm to settle me into a comfortable position. It ended up with me being spoonfed - gosh, that was embarrassing - until for the first time in who knows how long, I felt full. You helped me when I needed a drink too, even reading a chapter or two of some classic. Jane Eyre, was it? I'm not sure.

I think I dozed off around nine-ish, before I had a chance to write this entry. It was a pleasant surprise to wake up again at abut midnight to see you still beside me, in your day clothes, with an arm around my waist and a hand resting delicately on my stomach.

I'm writing this entry in the moonlight, so forgive any unreadable writing. But at the risk of sounding like some sort of sappy romance writer, today meant the world to me. Just the fact that you were genuinely concerned about my welfare was one of the loveliest things anybody has ever done or felt for me. So thank you for that. Thank you so, so much.

All my love,

Éponine


	18. Éponine's Sickness

My Dearest Éponine,

I was wondering when this day was - I knew it was in December, but I couldn't remember when.

I was so worried when you were sitting against the wall - at first you looked like you were asleep, but you were so flushed that I didn't think so. It was when you didn't recognise my voice that I knew something was up, and your burning forehead just confirmed that.

The first person I could think of to take you to was Joly, so of course that's exactly where I took you. It scared me just how light you were - honestly, I think a ten year old would have weighed more. But my main priority was getting you to someone who could help.

Luckily for me Joly had something that would help you. You were oddly quiet, although I blame that on you feeling sick. I hope I wasn't too jolty whilst carrying you, I started jogging a bit at one point, so I can only pray I didn't make things worse.

I'm glad you didn't try to leave or protest. I would have had a heart attack with the stress of knowing you were at home when you were so sick - God only knows what your father would have done. Probably beaten you for not getting any money, regardless of how ill you were.

Of course I let you have my bed - the sofa would have been far too lumpy, and I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Besides, it gave me yet another excuse to keep a close eye on you - I wasn't planning on letting you out of my sight unless I absolutely had to.

I was also fairly glad you were able to swallow the tablets - whenever I try, my gag reflex acts up, so I can't swallow them. But luckily you could, which was handy, as the liquid medicines Joly has are absolutely disgusting. You were already ill, I didn't need you feeling any worse.

You always try to tell me you're a burden, even though you aren't. You never have been, and you never will be. If you needed or wanted to stay at my flat then of course I'd let you, no matter the circumstances.

Don't worry, for I was too concerned about just how weak you were than the state of...undress you were in. Honestly, that corset you were wearing was clearly far too small for you, when I loosened it I could see deep red ridges stretching across your shoulder blades. I tried not to touch or irritate them when I turned you over - you didn't seem to be in any pain, so I presume I didn't.

Your forehead was down a bit in temperature when I kissed it, thank heavens. You seemed alright to eat, no vomiting, so that's what I helped you do, you were always so underweight that every time you were at mine I would feed you as often as possible. I'm glad you liked the soup, I was a bit worried you wouldn't at first.

I'm glad you didn't push me away. I know how used to taking care of yourself you are, but sometimes, just for the heck of it, you need to let someone else take care of you. It doesn't matter how strong you are, you can't deal with everything by yourself.

There's no need to be embarrassed - we've all been spoonfed at some point, I'm sure. And if that was the only way you could eat, then that's what I'd do. Same with the water, if you needed help with it then help you will get, my dear Éponine.

It was around half past eight you dropped off. You looked so...peaceful, despite the sickness. I couldn't just leave you, so I shuffled closer, gently easing my arm around your waist and letting my hand rest itself on your stomach, tracing small circles on it. I must have fallen asleep, but not before the fever broke and you looked even more calmed than before.

Today meant a lot to me as well - not because you were ill or in pain but because of how much you genuinely trusted me to take care of you. I know how difficult it is for you to trust people, specifically men, so for you to have such faith in me despite everyone else is just...so heartwarming in a sense.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	19. 25th December 1831

**A/N: I'm drowning in revision. Science, geography, Spanish, maths and English so far. HELP ME. (I honestly don't know why I'm telling you all this. Oh well. Perhaps I'll set you a trigonometry problem or two so you can all feel my pain. Or I won't. Even I'm not that sadistic...probably...)**

**Aaaaaand...on with the fic XD**

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25th December 1831

My Dearest Marius,

I don't think I've ever had quite as much fun as I have today.

As you well know from the date, today is Christmas, and whilst I'm not particularly religious it's a holiday I do enjoy celebrating whenever possible. In the most recent years all I've managed is scraping enough together to get Gavroche and Azelma some sweets for their stockings (it seems cruel to leave them with nothing, my parents wouldn't bother if I didn't give anything, and they get so excited, bless them - its a tradition for me to tell them a story on Christmas Eve or they don't sleep at all) and perhaps get Azelma to sing a couple of carols when Maman and Papa weren't around, but that's about it.

Well, it was until this year.

You invited the three of us to spend the day with you. Gavroche politely refused, saying he had plans with the boys, and Azelma only stayed for about twenty minutes before going off carol singing, so it ended up just the two of us. No complaints from me.

I think helping you decorate the tree was one of my favourite parts. Even when we still owned the inn we never had one. Maman would string some tinsel around the door, and that was all. I didn't even know what Christmas trees were to be honest with you.

But never mind. You had so many that I was too busy looking at them to think of anything else. So many colours and shapes - it was captivating. It was only when you handed me the box that I actually began it help you.

We ended up having a bit of a bauble fight - luckily they weren't glass, so they didn't break! It started with you dropping one and it bouncing off my arm, so I playfully threw one at you, and so it began. We ended up sitting on the floor laughing like children, baubles scattered around us before we actually seriously finished decorating.

I was wondering how we were going to reach the top to put the star on at first. That was soon answered by you picking me up by my waist so I could reach. I managed to fasten it just as you put me down, so it was slightly lopsided, but all in all I was quite pleased with our work.

I was surprised when you sat me down on the sofa and brought out a small package. I really didn't know what to do. When you told me to open it, I wasn't sure what to say - I haven't received presents (other than this diary) in so long, for you to go out and buy me something using your own money was still something unexpected.

I opened the package carefully, wondering what was inside. I found a small envelope and another wrapped up package. The envelope had my name on it, so I opened that too.  
Inside was my first ever Christmas card.

I'd never received one before - at the inn I only knew my family, and when we moved here I was a street rat, I had no friends except you. So I'd never been given one.

On the front was a picture of the Musain in the snow, a girl who looked suspiciously like me walking in to the doors. It was hand drawn, I presume by you - it must have taken ages, since I know you don't draw much - and was quite possibly one of the nicest things anybody's ever done for me.

I leaned forwards to hug you, trying to fight back the tears beginning to gather. You hugged me back tightly, clearly relieved I liked it. I realised I hadn't actually opened it and did so, slowly reading the message inside.

_Dear Éponine,_

_I hope you have a wonderful Christmas,  
you definitely deserve it!_

_Lots of love,_

_Marius_

I hugged you again, still attempting to fight those pesky tears back. I carefully set the card down next to me and picked up the package, unwrapping the layer of newspaper.

Where I found a centime attached to a note and another package.

The note read "Dear Éponine, have a centime for luck. No, it isn't charity. It's tradition, so no refusing!'. I smiled and unwrapped the next one.

In the next package was a small candy cane and yet another package - how many layers were there? I took a nibble of the candy cane and pocketed it, wanting to save it for later.

I unwrapped the third layer, where I found a tiny cotton square with my name stitched on it, and a tiny red heart in the corner. I slipped that into my pocket alongside the centime and the candy cane, and unwrapped yet another layer.

I thought I'd legitimately found the final layer: as there was a small box there. I opened it and guess what I find? Another package, with a note attached saying "almost there".

I opened the package which was now roughly the size of my palm, and in it was a necklace wrapped around some cardboard. It had tiny bottle attached with a miniature key inside, hanging on a thin satin ribbon.

It was beautiful.

I almost knocked you over with the force of my hug, the tears coming at a rate I couldn't control. It wasn't just the gift that I loved, but the double meaning to it. The key, in my mind, is a symbol of trust.

It was your way of thanking me for putting my trust in you.

Oh, Marius, I wish I had been able to buy you something. I would have done, but I needed the money for Gavroche and Azelma. I hope you didn't mind.

I put the necklace on almost immediately, surprised at how light it was. I had another bite of the candy cane and hugged you yet again, staying next to you on your part of the sofa.

You made us both some hot chocolate and sat next to me again, close enough for my head to gently rest itself on your shoulder.

Today was a truly perfect day. It honestly was. Thank you so, so much. For everything.

All my love,

Éponine


	20. Christmas Day

**A/N: I swear these replies are getting shorter and shorter. Sorry!**

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My Dearest Éponine,

Merry Christmas!

You're so good to your siblings. It's horrid to hear that your parents don't bother doing anything for them, so that you have to keep up the magic. I can just imagine you three sitting in a ring on the floor, huddled in your blankets, you telling the two young ones a story as they wait for the next day.

Bless them, and bless you, my lovely girl.

If I'm being entirely honest with you, I was only planning to invite you, but it seemed harsh to exclude those two. I had a feeling Gavroche would refuse, and I wasn't sure about Azelma. But in a sense I'm glad that it was the two of us. It worked out perfectly.

Decorating the tree was definitely a highlight. I wasn't sure if you'd ever done it before - usually I decorate it the night before, but I was planning to have you over, so decided to leave it until the day. How glad I am that I did.

It's always lovely to watch you discover new things. You approach the object carefully, as if it's threatening to eat you, before staring at it for a bit, and then, once you know what it does, continuing on your way.

I do indeed remember the "bauble fight". Why is it we could never spend time together without engaging in some kind of war? I'll never know. But they were immensely entertaining, and they certainly kept us both in high spirits, so of course I'm not complaining either.

I'll look out for Azelma carol-singing this Christmas. I'll make sure she's warm and I'll spare her a few francs. Hopefully she'll have made enough to keep herself fed too. I haven't heard her sing any carols, since it's not Christmas yet, but I'll definitely go for a walk by the river to hear her this year.

I suppose the star was slightly lopsided - it must have looked quite comical. But who cares? We decorated that tree together, and you were the one to place the star there, which automatically makes it perfect in my eyes.

You weren't quite sure what was happening when I handed you the package(s). It always worried me just how unused to receiving gifts you were. But I never let it faze me. Why should it? It just meant that the gifts you did receive were that much more special to you, and that's what matters.

I wasn't aware that was your first Christmas card, I presumed you'd had some at the inn. But I can't help feeling just a little happy that my card happened to be your first, however selfish that may sound.

It was me that drew it - I had a little help from Jehan, who from all his poetry had more experience of drawing than I did, even if he was drawing words instead of pictures. I won't lie, it did take a while, but it was completely worth it.

I was slightly surprised when you hugged me, but happy. For once I managed to push all thoughts of how thin you were out of my head and just enjoyed the moment.

I'm glad you liked my little parcel game. And that you accepted the centime, I know how picky you are when I try to give you money. But not even Éponine Thénardier can argue with tradition now, can she?

I found the necklace quite by chance, it was hand made, only five copied of it had been created by the stall owner. It was perfect for you, especially the symbolism of the key.

That's exactly what it meant. I know how difficult it is for you to properly trust a person, men in particular. It must have been hard for you to trust me at first. But I am so, so glad you did. Because it meant I gained a wonderful friend in the process.

Don't be ridiculous - I didn't expect anything in return. Just knowing you were safe and content was more than enough. Ending the day with hot chocolate and you by my side, one of the most perfect finishes I can think of.

Looking back, this is perhaps the most bittersweet day of all. Knowing that what you describe as your best Christmas was also your last. But, on the plus side, you enjoyed it. Actually, properly enjoyed it. That helps me to not feel so sad, because whilst it was your last, it was a very good last.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	21. 29th December 1831

**A/N: Yeah, I'm sorry, I kinda forgot about this for a couple of days :( I've been so preoccupied with Imagine, hopefully it won't happen again! :)**

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29th December 1831

My Dearest Marius,

How odd it is to think that in two days time it'll be 1832.

Azelma made an absolute fortune with her carol singing - she spent four days doing it and raised almost sixty francs! I couldn't believe it when she told me - it's more than I sometimes make in a fortnight. Instead of giving it all to my father in one go, we've decided to ration it out, hiding it behind loose brick in a wall. So whatever we pickpocket we can keep for ourselves instead.

This usually means I have much more free time, which naturally I spent with you at the meetings.

Today, for example, was a good day. It started off a bit boring - Enjolras was making a speech about something or other, as usual, and everyone was pretending to listen. You made a comment about it to me, whispering it in my ear and sending me off into laughter which I tried to cover with coughing. Needless to say, Enjolras was not impressed.

When at last he'd finished speaking, you said we had to be somewhere (which confused me, as we had no plans, but I went with it) causing some wolf whistling from the boys. You rolled you eyes and beckoned for me to follow you, which I did.

Turns out you'd heard of a new café near the Rue de Húgo which served food in the style of several different countries - England, Spain and Italy as well as France. You were curious to go, and once we were outside asked me to come.

I agreed immediately, at the prospect of food as well as spending time alone with you. I offered to pay but of course you didn't let me. I don't know why I bother, since you'll never let me. But hey. Free food for me!

We - or more specifically, I - got some stares when we walked in from diners. I think a couple of them recognised me as being one of the pickpockets, although luckily we weren't thrown out! You noticed the stares and gently took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

We were seated at a table in the back corner, which was fine by me, as it was more private. You looked a little doubtful at first but snapped out of it quickly, squeezing my hand again before letting it go and picking up the menu.

Before long we had a somewhat strange mix of sandwiches and a bowl of pasta to share. You were running out of money so we shared a cake too, which was gorgeous. I think they call it a sponge? It's from England, and the pasta was from Italy. Easily the most diverse meal I've ever eaten.

After that we chatted some more about anything and everything. It was only when I noticed your hand was almost touching mine that I realised just how much of a couple we must have looked. If only.

But the conversation remained comfortable, and we stayed there for a good three hours. It was five-ish when we went back to the Musain and faced a very drunk Grantaire, a shrieking Joly who'd been accidentally (or not, who knows) spat on by said drunk, Lesgle and Jehan teasing us about out "date" and Enjolras just being, well, Enjolras.

I love the evenings at the Café - it was already getting dark outside, so we only had a couple of hours. But they were very entertaining hours, as they always were.

We walked home at about seven, the last sight before we left being Grantaire, passed out on the floor, wearing a skirt on his head and holding a chair in one hand. I just didn't want to know.

I stopped on the way to take fifteen francs out of me and Azelma's "funds" so that it would keep my father happy. You helped me secure the brick back, and we continued.

I was about to turn away to enter our flat, when you gave me an unexpected hug. It took me a moment to return it, I was pretty surprised. But I just enjoyed the moment as you held me briefly.

I bid you a goodnight and thanked you for the day, before daring to kiss you on the cheek as I went into the flat, flashing you a smile as I closed the door.

Another truly wonderful day, courtesy of you. Thank you for everything, even if I did get a bit of teasing from Azelma this evening!

All my love,

Éponine


	22. The Café

My Dearest Éponine,

60 francs? That's insane! I didn't know she made that much! I'm glad she did though - it was a good idea to ration it out instead of giving it to your father all in one go, clever girl. I'd never have thought of that.

Oh, nobody ever listened to poor Enjolras. He just said the same things and we all pretended to be enthusiastic half the time. I can't remember what I said to you, but I do remember you laughing at it. I miss your laugh, that happy little cackle that seemed to explode out of you at random times.

Of course they wolf-whistled (well, except for Enjolras, but he's Enjolras) - I knew they would. Whenever anybody is seen with a girl they'll tease. As much as it annoyed me, I miss it now.

I haven't been to the café since. I've passed it several times - they've expanded their menu now, with dishes from Germany and Ireland - but whenever I pass it I can only ever think of this day. I planned to have my lunch break there once, but I couldn't get myself to do it. It didn't feel right, not without you.

I suppose sandwiches and pasta are a fairly odd combination - not your conventional lunch, I grant you! But it was so very Éponine that I went with it. Surprisingly nice, actually - funny to think that if it weren't for you I'd never have tried it.

I'm glad you ignored their prim little stares. I hated it when people looked at you like that. It doesn't matter that you weren't the cleanest or that your clothing wasn't the best quality. They shouldn't be so judgemental. You're beautiful in your own unique way, don't ever le anybody tell you you aren't!

I'm pretty sure it was a sponge cake - funny name, isn't it? It makes me think of bathrooms more than food. But I suppose it's fairly accurate due to the texture.

I suppose we did look rather cosy. If that scene were to happen now I'd have grabbed or tickled your hand to make you smile. If only indeed.

The evenings really were always entertaining, especially when Grantaire and his beloved bottle came into action. Do you remember the time he somehow got Joly drunk? He woke up the next day with a hangover thinking he was going to die. I remember him staggering into the Musain the next morning claiming he was suffering from amnesia because he couldn't remember the night before. Courfeyrac just stood up and hit him around the head with a newspaper. Joly was unamused.

I don't want to know what happened to Grantaire that night either. It's probably best we don't.

I'm not completely sure why I hugged you. I just felt the urge to, so I did. You always gave really reassuring hugs, despite being so bony. What I wouldn't give to hug you just one more time, my darling 'Ponine.

I'm glad you had a good day. I'd never even heard of that café until that morning, so I had no idea what to expect. But as long as you're happy, that's what matters.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


	23. 3rd January 1832

**A/N: ...**

**I'm so sorry for not updating this in so long! I got really preoccupied with Imagine and then got massive writers block for Madness and asdfghjkl I'm sorry. Hopefully I can update this more frequently!**

* * *

**This might be a bit bad as it's nearing two in the morning, but hey. Better than nothing (I think). And it's a bit dark. But yeah.**

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3rd January 1832

My Dearest Marius,

I'm not sure if I want to write about today. But I know if I don't it'll sit with me for who knows how long, and you're the only person I feel I can confide in, especially after what you did for me today.

My father...he...

Oh gosh, I don't know how to say it.

He let Montparnasse..."violate" me.

I...I couldn't stop him. I didn't know what to do, his hand stopped me screaming.

He's done it before. But that doesn't make it bearable.

My father just stood there and watched. Smirking. All because I didn't get him enough sodding money.

It was horrible. I tried to pretend it was you (if you'll excuse my boldness there) but I couldn't. I know you'd never force anyone into anything.

When he finished, my father beat me. Kicked me in the ribs and shoved me to the ground.

I tried not to cry. I did. But I couldn't stop the tears, not after that. I stayed there, a heap on the ground, not daring to move, even to sort out my skirts which were about halfway up my thighs.

And then you found me.

I was embarrassed, I didn't want you to see me so vulnerable. You went to gently pull my skirt down to give me some decency, but I flinched and rolled away from you. But you didn't let that faze you. Instead you gently took hold of one of my hands, letting me keep one on top of yours as you replaced my skirt back to my ankles, so I knew you wouldn't harm me.

You didn't ask questions. You've learned not to. You know I get withdrawn and refuse to talk. Instead, you helped me sit up, and then drew me against your chest gently, where I lay my head and absolutely sobbed my heart out. Tears for the newest bit purity I'd lost. Tears of shame. Tears of fear. Of hurt. I couldn't stop. It was like six years of abuse was finally coming out.

You didn't mind. You simply sat there on the pavement holding me, stroking my hair gently as I clutched at your shirt. I'm surprised I let myself. As you know, I never cry in front of anybody, not even my own siblings.

You insisted I stayed at yours that night, and I agreed. I felt safe when you were there. Even if you felt nothing more than friendship I knew you'd do what you could to protect me. That meant more than I could ever tell you.

I slept in your bed that night (with you in it, no less). I had nightmares, lots of them. I expected you to ask me to leave, they were so frequent. But you didn't. Like in the alley you simply hugged me and let me calm myself, occasionally pressing a kiss to my head.

I'm writing this on the morning of the fourth. I couldn't bring myself to do anything yesterday.

I know I won't ever forget it, and I doubt it'll be the last time such an act happens, knowing Montparnasse. But you told me I can always rely on you when I need you. So I know I have someone to turn to, somewhere safe to go. Someone who can let me cry and cry and cry and think no less of me for it. Not that I'd allow myself to do that too often. But even I can't hold back forever.

All my deepest love and affection,

Éponine


	24. A Shocking Confession

My Dearest Éponine,

Dear God in Heaven.

I can see why you didn't really want to write about this.

I didn't know that was what happened, you didn't tell me, and I didn't want to ask for fear of upsetting you further. I assumed it had been a bad beating.

Never did I think this could have happened. With your own father watching-no, smirking-and all.

I can't even begin with how much rage this fills me with. I hope to God this Montparnasse is behind bars. Never should such a man be allowed to walk freely. Neither should your father, if you don't mind me saying.

I must admit I blushed a little when I read that you tried to pretend it was me. But don't feel embarrassed. If it helped at all (which I seriously doubt) then imagine all you want. Not that that condones this happening in the first place.

I can't expect you to hold back emotion after that. I'd have had a nervous breakdown if it were me.

Please don't ever be embarrassed to cry in front of me. I know you do what you can to lock away any emotion, but nobody can go a lifetime without having some sort of release. I would never think less of you for letting tears come. Quite the opposite.

I think it was the first time my thoughts didn't stray to how thin you were as I held you. I was too busy thinking what on Earth could have led you to such emotion. I knew things were bad but I'd never seen you like that before.

Of course I let you stay. You think I was going to let you go back home after that, where your father and possibly Montparnasse would be? No chance.

I'm glad you felt safe with me. Knowing you still had an ounce of trust in men after what happened that day was enough to make me realise that, whilst you never considered yourself to be, you were a hopeful person.

I'd never turn you out for having a nightmare, never. No matter the circumstances. I'd always be there to give you a hug, a kiss, a reassuring word. I'd always give you what I could, keep you happy, safe, free from the pain. It doesn't matter what someone else has done or what you'd done, you'd always have had a place to turn to should you have needed one. And in the chance I'll ever see you again, you still will.

Always.

All my deepest affections, my beautiful Éponine,

Marius


	25. 7th January 1832

**A/N: Hello there lovely people. Slightly more uplifting today, I'm in a good mood so here you go. I'm in a very write-y mood, so hopefully I can finally get past the writers block I've got for Madness, and I've also had a couple of one-shot ideas, so I'm gonna be casually typing away whilst ignoring stares from confused diners over dinner XD Ah well...hope you enjoy! :)**

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7th January 1832

My Dearest Marius,

Gosh, isn't it chilly? I'm positive the nights are getting colder and colder. Our flat is freezing, which isn't fun as we have no fireplace. I hope you're alright.

I didn't see you until late afternoon, which had me worried. Normally I see you around midday, but it was half past four when you turned up. I asked you what had kept you, and you said you'd had a job interview, which surprised me - not that I don't think you're capable, just that you're still studying for another couple of months, and you've already had one, which I thought you would have stayed with. To celebrate, you asked me to go out to a proper restaurant with you, to my disbelief.

I wasn't sure what to say. My eyes must have looked comparable to some kind of saucer, they were so round. We've been to a small café or two before, but never to a proper restaurant.

"I-I can't. It's too grand for me" I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. "I'll be seen with you and nobody else" you told me, and how quickly my heart began to beat I could not tell you. After at least ten minutes of coming up with various excuses of why I should not go with you (not because I didn't want to, you understand, but because I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come or if you were saying it out of politeness). You had a counter for each, however, and I eventually gave in.

I went to wash my hair in the river almost immediately, wanting to make an effort. I managed to get all the dirt out of it, though the tangles took forever. I couldn't believe what I saw, my hair ended up being a nice, chestnut-brown falling in loose waves to about my waist. I'd never seen it in such good condition, and can only wish it didn't take two and a half, nearly three hours to do.

I wasn't too sure on what to do clothing-wise. I dug around our house for a bit until I found one of Mama's old blouses, from years ago, when we owned the inn. She was a lot skinnier then, I must admit. I swear she spends any money I earn on food for herself and my father. But never mind.

I dug around a little more and found a skirt too. It was a bit big for me, so I rolled it until it reached my ankles, using a slightly rusty clothes-pin keep it from unravelling. I don't think I looked too bad actually.

And neither did you, for when I met you, your mouth dropped open. At first I was worried, but then you reached out to touch my arm, now scrubbed clean and at least three shades lighter than the dirt had made it. "Éponine, you're beautiful" you told me, causing me to blush. My whole life (excluding the inn) people have told me that I'm hideous. So to hear something so different from you, the man I love, was a feeling I simply can't put in to words.

You'd even put on a suit for the occasion, and I have to say you looked very handsome. I leaned up to straighten your tie, and you kissed my forehead, which came as a shock. A happy shock, but a shock. You offered me your arm, which I took, and we set off.

I must say, I was expecting something nice but the place you chose, well, I was not expecting it. It was so grand, I can't begin to think of how much it cost. I know you very, very rarely chip in to your savings, but you must have done.

The waiter eyed me up rather doubtfully, but you shot him a rather stern glance, and he pursed his lips, showing us to a table by the window, bringing us a couple of menus.

I've always been very proud of my ability to read. A lot of us in the slums can't. Reading through the menu proved a bit of a challenge though, as fancy dish names were not something I'd come across before. What on Earth was 'bubble and squeak'? You told me it was an English dish. Interesting choice of name, I have to say.

In the end, I went for some chicken, potato and some kind of pudding, a Yorkshire pudding was it? I can't remember. You decided on some fish (cod or salmon, I can't remember that either) and potatoes, ordering a salad bowl for us to share.

We made conversation whilst waiting for our dishes. When they arrived, I think my eyes must have widened even more than when you asked me to join you in the first place. It was the biggest meal I'd ever seen in my life, not that I minded.

I dug in almost immediately, forgetting to look at you for help with proper table manners. I couldn't help it. I don't think I'd eaten in about three days. You reached across and placed a hand on my wrist. "Don't eat too fast" you told me. "You'll be sick."

I did as you said and slowed right down, remembering to look to you for help. I copied how you were holding and using your cutlery, and finished my meal in about half an hour.

We chatted for a bit afterwards, until you paid, and left. It must have been about nine in the evening. I stopped off to take the money I'd stolen on the way back (I've stopped feeling embarrassed about it now, I know you won't judge) to keep my father happy.

We reached the Gorbeau tenement before too long. I thanked you several times, and you smiled. I decided to throw caution to the wind and lean up to hug you. I half expected you to recoil, but to my utter delight, I felt your arms come to wrap around my waist. I've never felt happier. I know you've hugged me before, but each time just feels so much more special than the last.

I bid you a goodnight and leaned up to kiss your cheek, giving you one last smile as I entered my flat, having to lean against the wall for a minute to catch my breath.

All my love,

Éponine


	26. An Evening Out

My Dearest Éponine

It was cold, wasn't it? I have a fireplace luckily, so it didn't bother me. I didn't know you didn't have one, or I would have had you and your siblings over in the evenings. You'd probably have tried to refuse, but the offer would be there.

I remember the job now. It was my first proper translating job, wasn't it? My previous one was just French to English, but this one involved Spanish too, and the pay was a little higher. My thoughts immediately turned to you, knowing you wouldn't have had a good meal out for a long time, if at all.

I was glad you were still outside, with me being so late. I always thought you disappeared around half past three. But apparently not, for you were indeed at the marketplace as usual, casually taking a young mans wallet and emptying its contents, before replacing it and spotting me.

"Nice amount?" I remember asking you, to which you nodded. "Seven francs, twenty sous" you told me, cheekily grinning. I then told you my news.

You're right in saying your eyes looked like saucers. I'd never seen them so wide before - you looked as if you might faint, though thank goodness you didn't. Joly was away, and I would have had no idea what to do.

I remember a few of the excuses you came up with - saying it would tarnish my reputation (which I didn't give a damn about), that people would laugh (which I didn't give a damn about), that you didn't want to be seen with me (which I most certainly did). It took ten minutes, as you said, but you finally gave in.

You gave me a mile-wide grin and darted off down an alley, after promising to meet me at half past seven. In those four hours I went down to the restaurant to ask for a reservation, and washed my own hair, as it had become rather ruffled in the wind, and looked a little greasy.

I had to dig around for my suit too - I had the shirt from the interview, and the tie, but I couldn't find my waistcoat anywhere. After around an hour I realised with a sigh that I'd left it drying, and trudged out to get it. Luckily it had already dried, so I slipped it on, and began to think about the upcoming evening.

I confess I was predominantly thinking about you. I wondered what you would wear, knowing that you wouldn't want to go out in your street clothes. You've got too much pride for that, not that it's a bad thing, plus I knew you'd make an effort to avoid "tarnishing my reputation" as you'd put it earlier that day. I wouldn't have cared what you'd worn, as long as you were safe and unharmed.

I suppose that was another reason I asked you, as well as celebrating. I worried about you every night, nine times out of ten hearing something that sounded like a belt hitting skin. It terrified the life out of me, though I could never do anything as your door was locked. Plus you hate it when people try to stand up for you, and I know that not only would you have been irritated, but your father would have done more damage to you, which I couldn't let happen.

You honestly did look stunning. I've never seen your hair in anything less than that mess of tangles, so to see it looking so smooth, silky almost...well, I didn't expect it. If I remember correctly it stayed like that for about a week, and I ran my fingers through it once. You blushed, of course. I liked making you blush. You were so adorable.

No. You _are_ so adorable. And I'll tell you why I'm thinking in the present tense now.

Yesterday, I saw a girl. Not just any girl. I'm almost positive I saw you.

The girl in question had the same hair as you. Same shade, same length, same half-side-fringe. She was thinner than you, but only just. When I saw her face, she smiled at me before running off. And she had your dimples, the dimples too deep and familiar to belong to anybody else. And the girl was around nineteen, which is how old you are.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, a trick of the brain. But I won't give up hope. I don't fully believe you would have resigned yourself to die. You're too stubborn for that.

But back to this entry. It won't be the last time I write about that girl, until I know for definite it either is or isn't you. I can't help hoping it is, but I suppose only time will tell.

Of course I gave the waiter that glance. Nobody has the rights to look down upon another because of their social standing. Besides, you looked gorgeous, so they had no reason to look down anyway.

I knew you'd choose chicken. You have such an attachment to it, though I can't pretend to know why. I like it, but find it rather dry, to be entirely honest with you. But if you're happy, I'm happy.

Why on Earth would I recoil when you hugged me? On the contrary, as I think I've said before, you always gave - _give_ - really reassuring hugs. Nice hugs. You were exactly the right height, beautiful.

Until the next time, my darling,

Marius


	27. 9th January 1832

**A/N: Hellooooooooooo.**

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9th January 1832

My Dearest Marius

How I love the Café Musain.

I wasn't sure what to do, as today was fairly quiet. It took longer than normal to achieve my normal amount of money, so instead of heading home I decided to try and meet you. I couldn't find you anywhere, which was slightly worrying. Well, until I walked straight in to you, not really looking where I was going.

I fell backwards, though I didn't hit the ground. I wasn't sure why, until I realised it was because you were holding my waist.

Gosh, did I blush. I must have looked like a tomato. You simply smiled at me and set me back on my feet, releasing me gently. "Somebody's excited to see me" you teased, causing me to grin. "Aren't they just. You heading to the Musain?" I asked.

You nodded. "I am. Enjolras has called a meeting, though what for I have no idea, we never listen to him anyway."

I nodded. "Would you, you know, mind, if I tagged along, I mean?" I asked, almost nervous, though why I'm not sure. I suppose I was worried I was too clingy more than anything, but you nodded. "Of course you can. In fact, it'd be much nicer if you did."

I smiled once more and linked my arm through yours. I loved it when you wanted me around. No-one else ever seemed to, though I can't blame them. It made me feel special, however cliché that sounds. It really did though, especially considering my feelings towards you.

We walked along happily, ignoring stares from passers-by. Why do people have to be so judgemental? I know I'm not pretty, or clean, or high-class, but I'd like to think I'm still classified as a person. "Ignore them" you said to me, pressing a kiss to my hair. That was a surprise and a half, but I went with it, nodding and flashing you a quick smile.

When we arrived, Grantaire was of course drunk. Musichetta was there too, behind the bar, Joly and Bossuet next to her. No doubt 'Chetta had been summoned to keep Grantaire from drinking everything in sight, I swear she's the only one who can stop him. I noticed Jehan was missing, which was odd, as he's always there. Perhaps he was ill?

We sat ourselves on a narrow bench in the corner. It wasn't very long, I don't think there was a single gap between our bodies (I presume the bench was meant for one). Not that I was complaining, and you didn't seem to be either, moving your arm to rest on the small of my back, stopping me from slipping sideways.

Enjolras began his speech, interrupted halfway through by Grantaire falling in front of his feet and having to be dragged of by Courfeyrac and Combeferre, chuckles rolling around the room. Embarrassingly, I actually fell asleep at the end of it, despite having slept okay the night before.

The next thing I knew I was back at my own rooms, the house empty of all but you. You'd placed me gently on my broken pallet and sat on the floor next to me, actually weaving your fingers through my hair. It was still in good condition from our outing a couple of days ago. I pretended to be asleep so that you kept going.

It seemed to work. I tried to hard to suppress a smile, but had to open my eyes at some point. When I did, you stopped, which was a shame. But you smiled at me and explained what had happened, and asked me if I'd rather stay at yours that night.

I think it was the sleep talking, as I agreed, leaving my coin pouch on the table. I wrote out a small note saying "Éponine's earnings. Out tonight," and then followed you through to your flat.

I did however have enough sense to insist I slept on the sofa, and you reluctantly agreed. I think the reason you let me stay so often was to ensure I was safe, though I can't be certain. That meant the world for me, you genuinely caring about my wellbeing. Even if you didn't love me in the way I wanted you to, I'd like to believe you loved me in the way that a friend loves a friend, and that alone meant more to me than I can ever say.

As I was beginning to succumb to sleep already, you loosened my corset strings for me, handing me one of your old shirts to wear with my skirt instead, turning around whilst I changed. You bought me a glass of water and a thick duvet, clearly wanting me warm and comfortable. I still notice you're the only person I let fuss over me, when you want to. Still not sure why.

Making sure I was okay, you left me a candle and some matches in case I needed the toilet during the night, bid me a goodnight and kissed my forehead, gently flicking a bit of hair out of my eyes. "Goodnight, Marius" I called after you, and you turned around and gave me one last smile, disappearing in to your bedroom as I watched you walk away.

All my love,

Éponine


	28. Just Another Day

My Dearest Éponine

This was a pleasant day to read about.

I do indeed remember you walking in to me. I was standing still and simply watching the world go by, not really paying attention either. I didn't even notice you walking in to me until you were about an inch away, and my first instinct was to stop you falling, so I did. Pleasant surprise for me to see who it was I'd caught.

You did blush, though not quite tomato-level, I assure you. Looking back I often find myself wondering how I could have been so blind, the blushes, the smiles, the fact you only appeared to be properly happy with me. I'm so sorry, 'Ponine. I really am.

Too clingy? If there's one thing Éponine Thénardier isn't (and yes, I remain in the present tense) then it's clingy. You were too independent to be clingy, and even if you were, I probably wouldn't have minded.

Of course I always wanted you around - why wouldn't I? You make me smile, you make me laugh, and I always enjoy your company. Tension was non-existent, and you could be hilariously funny sometimes. I'm glad it made you feel like that. You deserve to feel special.

Don't be stupid. You are by no means ugly, you're beautiful underneath the dirt and the rags. Why do people have to be so judgemental? If they bothered to get to know you, they'd never judge you again. And you are a person, a lovely person, and don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

Jehan was actually at some poetry class in Calais, which is why he was missing for several days. It was odd without him always asking me to proofread his writing. You're right about Musichetta being the only one able to somewhat control him, she's fearsome when she's annoyed, as you probably know.

I don't think it could even be considered a bench, more a small side-table. You looked as if you were going to fall off at some points, which I didn't want to happen. Plus, having you so close was by no means a bad feeling.

I was very close to nodding off myself. Enjolras' speeches did tend to go on for quite a while, and I don't think you were ever a good sleeper anyway. Looking out for Azelma, no doubt. And I'm imagining a lot of your fathers gimmicks took place at night.

I got a few slightly bemused stares as I carried you through the streets back to the tenement. I must have looked rather odd, carrying your sleeping form around the town. But never mind.

Did you share that pallet with Azelma? I didn't see anywhere else, apart from a proper bed which I knew your parents would have used for themselves. It didn't look particularly comfortable, I could see some springs poking through. If it was just you and Azelma, then I would have bought you a new one. But your parents would have gone insane, so it was probably best not to. I love your hair, despite the mess of tangles. It has highlights of a really rich chestnut in the sun, and when it looked so lovely I couldn't help but touch it.

Whether it was the sleep talking or not, I'm glad you agreed. Safety for you, a companion for me. Even though you slept on the sofa, my walls are thin, and I could hear you quietly breathing in the next room, which was more relaxing than some may think.

I definitely loved you as a friend then. And I love you as so much more than that now, my darling. I feel so confused, I love you but I also love Cosette - I didn't think it was possible to feel like this, and I can't help but dislike the feeling. But at the same time, I don't want to stop loving either of you. I just don't know what to think anymore. But it's okay. Because in a sense, I have both of you - I have Cosette in person, and I have you as your feelings and emotions. I don't let this diary out of my sight now, even at work I've got it in my briefcase, and it's underneath my pillow every night, though Cosette doesn't know. I don't want her to read it, at the risk of sounding selfish, you did specify you wanted it to be me and only me to read it. I just hope curiosity doesn't get the better of her.

All my deepest love and affections,

Marius.

P.S: I saw the girl again today, and she honestly looks like she could be your twin. She/you won't speak to me though, she/you simply watch me for a bit and then run away, giving me that same, cheeky, bedimpled grin before she/you dart off. I'll see if I can strike up a conversation. I simply have to find out if it's you or not.


	29. 12th January 1832

**A/N: Okay so as I begin to write this it's 5:25 AM and I haven't slept all night so this could be full of unintentional typos. And I gave up and went to sleep halfway through Marius' reply. But oh well. Hope you like!**

* * *

12th January 1832

My Dearest Marius

We went to the Luxembourg Gardens today.

Despite having lived in Paris all my life, I've never been there. I've passed the perimeter many times, but I've never seen anybody who was any lower than middle-class, so I've always been worried of getting thrown out.

Today however, I had you with me. So we went.

I've never really been one for appreciating nature. I hear stories of people who study trees - why? I've never looked at a pine and thought to myself 'oh look, a tree, not like there's millions of those, I must get a closer look and note every little detail about this wonderful plant'. But each to their own, I suppose.

People did stare a bit at me. I would have been a fool to think they wouldn't. But I didn't care. I had you with me, and that's what my attention was primarily drawn to.

When we got to the centre of the gardens, there was a large fountain. And when I say large, I mean massive. Taller than you, that's for sure, and wider than me if I were lying on my side. I saw tonnes of centimes in the water, frowning. How could people throw away money like that?

Though that question was solved when you pressed a centime in to my hand. I looked up, frowning again, and tried to give it back. "If you've come out here to pity me, to give me charity, then think again, I don't want your money."

You shook your head, refusing to take it. "Oh, dear Éponine-" it didn't escape my notice that you called me 'dear' "-the money is not for you to keep. No, you see, it's a tradition. You throw a low-value coin, example a centime here, a penny in England, in to a fountain and make a wish on it. That's why there's so many coins at the bottom."

I felt a bit foolish then. Normally I don't bother with things like that. But you were up for it, and it couldn't hurt. So I closed my eyes, and threw the centime in, wishing harder than I've ever wished before on that wish.

You're not supposed to tell people what you wished for or it won't come true. But since this diary is currently for my eyes only, what harm can it do? Besides, if you're reading this, then you have probably already guessed what I wished for. I wished for you to love me like I love you.

Alas, I won't get my hopes up. I know you feel nothing more than friendship. But a girl's got to have dreams, right? Everybody has to have a little desire in their lives. Perhaps one day you will return my feelings. Perhaps you will not. But after all, I can only hope.

We spent a bit of time at the fountain. I felt a strange sense of safety there, whether that came from you or the fountain I'm not sure. But it was the kind of feeling I only ever get when I'm with you, only stronger. Like the feeling when I'm at your home. I just felt protected, secure. I must make a note to visit there more often.

We went through the rest of the gardens, including a large, hedge-grown maze meant for children. But I presume we're both still children at heart, since two minutes later we were running through it, turning whenever possible. It took about an hour to get back out. Brilliant fun though. I loved it.

I did go back to yours afterwards, but not to stay. You gave me something to eat as we had lunch, and water too. I hadn't had a drink all day, no wonder my voice gets so raspy sometimes. I tried some tea too, though I didn't like it much. Too rich for my tastebuds, I'm not used to nice foods and drinks. Still, bread and water is more than enough to keep me happy.

I stayed a few hours as we talked about the day, comfortably seated in your armchair. Even that smelled like you. I wonder how many times you've sat in the exact spot I curled myself up in. Perhaps you've even thought of me whilst sitting there? I hope so. God, do I hope so.

All my love,

Éponine


	30. The Luxembourg Gardens

My Dearest Éponine,

I'm sitting in the gardens as I write this reply.

The minute I saw that first sentence, I immediately headed here. I'm sitting by that exact same fountain on the exact bench we sat on all those months ago. I'm pretty much alone, after all it is December as I write, but never mind.

I'd never been there either, though I'd heard many good reviews about it. Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet went there one day, and said they loved it, so I decided to take you. I'm glad I did.

I don't really pay much attention to it either. I suppose, like you, it never really interested me. It still doesn't. Cosette keeps a fair garden out the front, but I don't pay much attention to it. Your description of a nature appreciator made me smile. I would have found such a thing rather boring, in all honesty.

Gosh, people annoy me. I wish they'd get their haughty heads out of their golden clouds and realise that somebody's social standing simply does not affect their personality. You're five times the person they ever will be, I promise you.

Oh, that fountain. It's so beautiful, isn't it. A few bits of spray from the water have landed on this book, but I know you won't mind. It's like mist, won't even know it was there by tomorrow. I suppose it is rather foolish to throw coins away like that. I bet we'd have enough to equivalent a gold Napoleon if we fished everything out and added it up. But I've always been partial to traditions.

I do indeed remember our conversation. I always find it admirable how you refuse to be a charity case. If someone gives you money in the street, you'll refuse it, even if you're starving. You always tell me you earn it, and I suppose you do. Pickpocketing must take some skill, and I say that without sarcastic intentions.

I threw in another centime today, and I suppose I can confide my wish. I wish that the girl I see so repeatedly is indeed you, and not just a trick of the brain. I've come to the conclusion that she doesn't know I've seen her, as she never makes any attempt at communication. She simply watches me go about my business before departing to wherever she comes from.

Oh, that maze. It's still going strong. When I've finished writing this I'll take a walk through it, for old times' sake. I can picture you now, running through it and laughing as we hit yet another dead end. When we found the centre you almost fell over, I caught you just in time and set you back on your feet.

I suppose your voice went raspy not just from lack of water but also from lack of sleep - I know you don't rest much to watch over your siblings. It surprised me that you didn't like tea - I can drink it by the gallon. And bread and water surely isn't enough, day after day. You deserve so much more, my love. So much more than the life you've been given.

I can't remember my thoughts back to then but I kept that armchair - Cosette prefers the sofa, she can put her feet up, so I'm the only one to use it now. And even if I didn't think of you back then, I most definitely do now.

All my deepest affections,

Marius


End file.
